


Just Want You to Know Who I Am

by AliceLiddle



Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell, Simon Snow & Related Fandoms
Genre: (but not too badly! this is a fic about being loved!), Fluff, Happy Birthday Caity!, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Song: Iris (Goo Goo Dolls), Songfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-11
Updated: 2021-01-11
Packaged: 2021-03-15 06:48:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,316
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28684335
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AliceLiddle/pseuds/AliceLiddle
Summary: Baz is fine. He's fine. Everything is fine. (It just isn't.)~A fic about being loved in all the little ways~Inspired by some lovely friends from this fandom who are so good at making everyone feel welcomed and loved, and also by the song "Iris", because Caity got it stuck in my head.
Relationships: Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch/Simon Snow
Comments: 4
Kudos: 71





	Just Want You to Know Who I Am

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Caitybug](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Caitybug/gifts).



> Happy birthday Caity! You have done so much to make this fandom a happy and loving space for so many people, and I am so glad to know you ♥
> 
> A while ago, we were on vc, and you kept singing "Iris" by the Goo Goo Dolls, and this fic happened because of that - I hope you like it! (And I'm sorry there's no Shep in this one, I'll work on getting him into the next fic I write!)
> 
> Thank you to [Liz](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lafeli85/pseuds/Fool%20of%20a%20Book%20Wyrm) and [Kris](https://archiveofourown.org/users/KrisRix/pseuds/KrisRix) for beta-ing this for me, and for also being two more lovely people who make this fandom so warm and cozy ♥

**Baz**

I’m fine.

Truly, I’m fine. I have no reason not to be fine; my classes went well today, my grades are good, and I was able to avoid the professor who always wants to talk to me about my “academic vision”, whatever the hell that’s supposed to be.

I’m a bit tired, but that’s only because I stayed up late to spend time with Snow last night after I finished the essay that’s due next week. I might be a little hungry too, and it’s been a while since I last had anything to drink, but I’m  _ fine _ .

I’m fine.

I take the tube back to Fiona’s apartment, hang my coat up beside the door, and nudge her stray Doc Martens into line on the shoe rug. While I wait for the kettle to boil, I read the most recent messages Snow has sent me.

_ I saw this dog in the park today _

_ [Image attached] _

_ Doesn’t it remind you of Mordelia? _

__

_ I know you’re in class right now, but I miss you _

__

_ Come over tonight? _

He texts me frequently, sometimes just a stream-of-consciousness account of his day. If it were anyone else I would hate it, but I like that he’s always thinking of me. I’m always thinking of him too.

While I’m typing a reply ( _ That does look like Mordelia – have they added transfiguration to the first year curriculum? _ and _ I’ll be over in a bit _ ), another text comes slamming in.

_ [Image attached] _

_ Look! That coffee chain you hate has started selling your pumpkin drink! Are you going to change your mind about never going there now?? _

He’s taken a picture of a blurry ad on the TV screen, and then circled the coffee cup in the photo with a wobbly red outline from the drawing app on his phone.

_ You’re an idiot. _

_ I’ll see you soon. _

His reply is a single heart, and I can’t help but smile down at my phone.

The tube ride to the Snow-Bunce flat seems to take forever. I shouldn’t need a nap—I technically got seven hours of sleep last night, and that should be more than sufficient—but I’m feeling both lulled and cranky by the time I step back out into the sunlight above ground. The motion of the train was calming in its familiarity, but I’m thirsty and felt trapped by all of the people stuck on the tube with me. I know that I drank the last of the blood I keep at Simon’s place last week, but I’m feeling too exhausted to bother with the butcher’s shop right now. I can go tomorrow. Or maybe the day after that. I’ll be fine.

I have vampire strength and muscles from years of football, but for some reason the steps to Snow’s third floor apartment seem insurmountable tonight. It takes eons to make it to his front door, and once I’m there, it takes me another moment to simply raise my hand and turn the knob.

I shouldn’t be this fatigued! I slept enough last night, and nothing went wrong today. Why am I feeling like this?

The second I cross the threshold, I see Snow pop up from where he must have been lounging on the couch. There are end credits flitting across the TV, so I can’t tell what he’s been watching, but he ignores them to stretch backwards, grinning at me while he’s upside-down.

“Hi, love.”

His grin gets even wider, and I see the tip of his wing twitch where it’s peeking over the cushions. I toe out of my shoes.

“Hey.” He flips back around and moves to one side of the sofa, making space for me to join him. “How was class today?”

My bag is discarded by the armchair, and I curl into the residual warmth on the now-vacant side of the couch.

“Class was fine. I handed in that paper, and Professor Morton was distracted by another student, so he didn’t try to talk to me today.”

“ _ Ugh _ , I’m glad. He’s such a pompous git.”

Simon has never met the man. I smile at him, happier than I’ve been all day.

“I love you.”

“I love you too.” He says it easily now, it doesn’t feel scary anymore. It’s just the truth. We love each other, and that’s all there is to it. “D’you want something to eat?”

I don’t really feel hungry, but I’m sure Simon wants food, and I know he’s happier when I eat with him, so I give a tiny shrug. (I blame him entirely for that habit.) “Alright.”

The second he stands, I stretch my feet onto his side of the couch, trying to leech whatever heat I can from where his body was. There’s a quilt tossed over the chair on the opposite side of the room, but I’m feeling too boneless, or maybe too weighed down, to go grab it.

When Snow returns, he’s balancing a mug and two plates in his arms, and there’s a water bottle sticking out of his pocket. Once he’s deposited everything safely on the coffee table, he turns to grab the quilt and toss it over the back of the couch.

“Budge up,” he says, hitting my feet with his knees. I do, and he settles back against the arm of the couch before reaching out to pull me into him. I twist so my back is resting against his chest, and he pulls the quilt over me before curling a wing around my elbow. He hands me the mug he brought out, and my hands immediately wrap around its warmth. ( _ I’m always cold, but why do I feel exceptionally cold today? _ )

It’s blood.

Simon must have gone to the butcher’s at some point today because he noticed I was out of blood.

I tip my head back to look at him, and he just kisses my cheek.

Once the mug is empty, Simon opens the water, takes a sip, and hands the bottle to me. His left hand is tracing small circles on my stomach, and his right hand reaches out to grab the sandwiches he brought. We’re silent as we eat, and I’m so thankful that our silences are no longer awkward, instead just companionable.

When our sandwiches are finished and our plates are resting back on the table (and once Simon has swept his crumbs out of my hair and onto the floor), he inches down and puts his face beside mine.

“Feeling better?”

“Hmm?” I’m sleepy and content now and just want to drift off in his arms. “I’m fine, I wasn’t feeling poorly. I’m just a bit tired, is all. And even that’s hardly worth mentioning—I got plenty of sleep last night.” I close my eyes and press our cheeks together. I can feel his jaw moving as he talks.

“Baz, you only slept for three hours the night before last. And you’ve been stressed about your essay, and I know you haven’t been eating or drinking enough this week.”

I turn my face into his, pressing my nose into his cheek, trying to say at once,  _ Stop talking and let me rest _ as well as  _ I love that you know me better than I know myself sometimes _ .

He turns his head too, kissing me gently before pushing my hair off my forehead.

“Get some sleep, okay? We’ll stay right here.”

I wouldn’t want anyone else to see me like this, but Simon defies expectation. He might be the only one who  _ can _ see me like this, who can look into the soul he insists that I have and determine exactly what I need before anyone else even knows I need something to begin with, myself included. As I fall asleep wrapped in Simon’s arms and wings, all I can think is  _ he knows me. He knows who I am, and he loves me  _ because _ of it. _

**Author's Note:**

> From "Iris", by the Goo Goo Dolls
> 
> And you can't fight the tears that ain't coming  
> Or the moment of truth in your lies  
> When everything feels like the movies  
> Yeah you bleed just to know you're alive
> 
> And I don't want the world to see me  
> 'Cause I don't think that they'd understand  
> When everything's made to be broken  
> I just want you to know who I am


End file.
